


The Five Times...

by queenitsy



Category: High School Musical
Genre: 5 Things, Challenge Response, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-08
Updated: 2010-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenitsy/pseuds/queenitsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Responses to an LJ meme. Includes "Five Times Troy Didn't Get Chad's Obsession With Ryan (And The One Time He Did)", "Five Encounters Between Chad and Ryan at Starbucks", "The Five Times Chad Said Please (And The One Time He Didn't Have To)", "Five Auditions Where Sharpay Didn't Get the Part (and One Where She Did)", and "Five Things That Sharpay Can't Stand About Chad (and One She Likes)", with more coming eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Five Times Troy Didn't Get Chad's Obsession With Ryan (And The One Time He Did)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Lielabell.

5.

Troy frowned. The guy standing in front of him _looked_ like Chad. He had Chad's hair and Chad's t-shirt and Chad's basketball tucked under his arm, but there was _no way_ Chad Danforth would have said what Troy could swear he'd just said. So Troy said, "Dude, what?"

"I said," Chad said slowly, "I can't tonight. I've got plans with Evans."

"Plans? _Evans?_ Chad!"

"What?" Chad demanded.

"What kind of _plans_ could you possibly have with him?"

Chad rolled his eyes. "We're going to the batting cages. That's our _plan._ So I can't hang out."

"You're ditching me for Ryan Evans." The idea just didn't compute. It had been weird enough when Gabi had suddenly become friends with Ryan, but once Troy had realized there was nothing to be jealous over, Troy sort of got that. Ryan was so -- girly, sort of, so he and Gabi liked to gossip and dance and do their nails or whatever. That was Ryan Evans stuff. But even though Troy _knew_ there was more to Ryan than that, and Chad had been talking about how awesome Ryan was at baseball for like two weeks now, Troy still found the idea of Chad hanging out with Ryan weird.

"I'm not ditching you. _I'm_ not the one who does that," Chad snapped. "And I'm not going to ditch Ryan just because you didn't realize I have other friends." And with that, Chad stalked off, literally taking his ball and going home.

Troy just sort of stared after him, because, _huh?_

4.

"Ryan's having an end-of-summer party," Chad said.

Troy blinked. "Okay," he said, waiting for Chad to explain why that was relevant to his life.

"You're invited," Chad added. "He was going to make you an actual, like, printed invitation, but I told him we're not in third grade, so."

"Weird," Troy said. "I always kinda get the feeling Ryan doesn't like me."

Chad rolled his eyes. "He likes you fine. He's just…" He gestured vaguely in the air, which was weird, because it was a very Ryan-like gesture. And Chad was really not Ryan-like. "You know. He's Ryan."

"I… _don't_ know?" Troy hazarded. "I barely know him at all. I think he's still mad at me about _Twinkle Towne_."

"That's ridiculous," Chad snapped, then paused. "Well, no, that's… yeah, totally possible. Kind of explains it, actually."

"So he _doesn't_ like me," Troy said.

Chad deflated. "I don't know. He's weird about… drama club stuff, and… Sharpay, and… You know, this summer. He'll get over it, though." He kicked Troy's leg. "You have to come."

"But he doesn't _like_ me," Troy said. "Why did he even invite me?"

Chad shrugged. "You're my best friend. It would be awesome if you two got along."

Which seemed like a weird thing for Chad to say, but then again, Chad had been weird lately. Especially about Ryan Evans. Troy didn't really get it. But he did like to party, and everyone knew that Mr. and Mrs. Evans were out of town all the time, so Evans Twins parties were totally unsupervised. Which was sort of awesome. "Can I bring Gabi?"

"Duh." Chad rolled his eyes.

Troy grinned. "Then I'm in."

 

3.

At first, Troy didn't think he _had_ to, but the night before school started, he decided he'd better check. He called Chad, and at Chad's "Yo," he said, "So we're riding to school together tomorrow?"

Chad laughed. "Yeah, duh."

Troy relaxed. They'd ridden together every first day of school since kindergarten, whether it was with their parents or sitting together on the school bus. For the first day of middle school, they'd convinced their parents to buy them matching outfits so everyone would know they were best friends. (Their mothers still offered to do that every year, and cooed over how cute it had been. Moms were weird that way.)

Troy knew it was sort of stupid to even care about, but he liked traditions. Besides, it was senior year, which meant it was their _last_ first day of school.

"Cool," Troy said. "I just wondered, 'cause I bet Ryan Evans' car is nicer than mine."

He practically heard Chad roll his eyes. "Ryan's got a Vespa, for some reason," he said. "Which is stupid. I mean, I bet he could borrow one of his parents' cars, since they have, like, nine of them, but… Anyway, bro, it's senior year. We're going to start it right, right?"

Troy laughed. Good to know that no matter how much time Chad spent with Ryan -- which was a _lot_, lately -- they were still best friends. Chad might be kind of obsessed with Ryan, but nothing could compare to fifteen years of friendship.

2.

Troy really shouldn't have been surprised. But only a few hours after they'd arrived at school, there was Chad's weird obsession again. It was lunchtime, and the whole gang was at the table -- the whole team, in other words, plus a few girlfriends. Like Gabi, who giggled into her strawberry milk and held Troy's hand.

And then, as they were all finally getting settled after mostly skipping the stupid lunch line (they were seniors, they got to skip it now, it was _tradition_) Chad jumped up again and waved. Troy looked where he was waving and… Who else?

Ryan waved back sheepishly, his cafeteria tray held in his other hand.

"Doesn't he usually sit with the drama table?" Troy asked, at sure why it bothered him that Chad grabbed a chair from the next table over and pulled it into place between their seats.

"So? Now he's gonna sit here," Chad said.

Gabi squeezed his hand under the table.

1.

Troy stared incredulously. Just… stared. Because Chad Danforth was standing inside the theater, and it wasn't detention. Sure, he was holding a basketball and looking awkwardly out of place about it, but…

"Are you feeling okay?" Troy asked.

Chad laughed. "I know, but it's not like I'm auditioning or anything. Just wanted to, like, check this place out."

"Okay, uh… I can show you around if you w -- "

"Chad!" Troy glanced over his shoulder and saw Ryan bounding over to them, beaming. "I didn't think you would actually come."

"Yeah, well." Chad smiled, shifting his basketball between hands. "You invited me."

"I've invited you," Troy said. "Like, a million times."

"Yeah, but…" Chad trailed off.

"Dude," Troy said, and he was actually really pretty offended. Which was maybe stupid, but Chad was supposed to be his best friend, not Ryan's, and during the whole time he'd been in rehearsals for _Twinkle Towne_, Chad hadn't once set foot in the theater. He'd gone to the performance, but grudgingly, and he'd never stopped thinking musical theater was pretty much lame.

Which Troy got, because Chad had that _Phantom of the Opera_ trauma, but then what the hell was he doing here, now, because Ryan freaking Evans had invited him? It wasn't right.

"Troy!" Chad tried, but Troy stalked off, seething and feeling kind of…

Jealous. Really, stupidly, bitterly jealous, because Ryan Evans, who already had about a kajillion dollars, had stolen his best friend.

0.

Troy's 18th birthday party was going to be awesome, and there was no way Chad was going to spoil it. Chad had _tried_ to talk with him, said he'd explain it, but Troy didn't want to hear it. But Troy didn't say anything when Chad showed up. Didn't kick him out, but didn't run over and say hi or anything.

He had basically invited everyone from their class. Zeke had brought Sharpay, so Troy was expecting that, but he was pretty sure he saw Ryan, too. Which was just infuriating, because Troy had purposely _not_ invited _him_ and couldn't Chad be his best friend for just one freaking night?

But the party had beer and Gabi, and those were both things that made him feel better. Gabi convinced him he should just talk to Chad, give him a chance to explain the whole Ryan situation, and it would make him feel better. Thanks to the beer, that sounded like a reasonable idea, but Chad had disappeared. If he was with Ryan when Troy found him, Troy was gonna be _pissed_.

He heard them before he saw them. He needed to pee -- also thanks to the beer -- and the downstairs bathroom was full so he went to use the one next to his parents' bedroom. It was quieter upstairs, and the bathroom was all the way in the back, away from the party.

So he heard, "He's never been this mad at me before," and knew it was Chad.

"He'll understand." Ryan, obviously. They were sitting in Troy's parents room, the door slightly open; Troy could see their shadows on the floor, but not them. "We should tell him, it'll -- "

"But what if -- "

"Chad."

And then they didn't say anything for a few seconds. Troy edged closer until he could just see them, sitting at the foot of his parents' bed. Holding hands. Ryan leaned over and kissed Chad, who shut his eyes and didn't pull away. Which was… whoa.

"We shouldn't," Chad mumbled when Ryan pulled away. Troy froze, fascinated, wanting to hear more. Because this was so far away from anything he'd even sort of imagined that he wasn't sure it was real and not, like, a drunken hallucination.

"It'll make you feel better," Ryan said, his voice lighter. Teasing.

Chad smiled, just a tiny bit, and reached out to put a hand on the back of Ryan's neck. He pulled Ryan forward, into another kiss, and it wasn't, like, a _small_ kiss. They were making out. Chad was making out with Ryan and he was doing it while sitting on Troy's parents' bed.

Troy really didn't need to see that. He stepped back and thought about it, anger slipping away. It was weird, but it wasn't, at the same time. He'd never figured Chad was gay or anything, but he knew Ryan was. And that didn't bother him. Ryan had only bothered him because he was stealing away Chad, but…

But it was sort of the opposite of when Troy had been jealous because Ryan was hanging out with Gabi, and just as dumb, now that he thought about it. Ryan didn't want to be Gabi's boyfriend, he wanted to be her _friend_. And Ryan didn't want to be Chad's best friend. He wanted to be Chad's boyfriend.

Well, that was okay, then.

Still, an hour later when Chad shuffled over to him and said, "Hey, man, can we talk?" Troy totally enjoyed the look of shock on Chad's face when he answered, "You and Ryan are totally going to have to go out with me and Gabi sometime."


	2. Five Encounters Between Chad and Ryan at Starbucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For svz_insanity.

5.

Ryan breezed into his usual Starbucks and clucked his tongue disapprovingly. There was a line. Not that it was a huge shock -- it was often overrun with tourists -- but usually his late morning schedule brought him in during a lull. Oh, well. He shifted his bag into a more comfortable spot on his shoulder, checked his iPod for the time, and waited. He had to get to class on time or his instructor would kill him, but then again, if he didn't have some coffee in his system he'd be totally off his game and get in trouble anyway.

When he got up to the counter, the barista -- a freckled redhead who worked every weekday morning and knew Ryan on sight -- gave him a slight shrug. "Sorry, we're backed up a little. Training a new guy on the bar." She paused. "He's cute, though."  


"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She giggled. "So that's a red eye?"

"You know me so well." He flashed her a smile, dropped two bucks in the tip jar, and handed over his card to pay for the drink.

She ran it, then turned around and called, "Hey, Chad, you know what a red eye is?"

Ryan peered past her curiously, and…"Chad _Danforth?_" It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and Chad looked over and caught him gaping, mouth hanging open, before he had a chance to recover.

"Holy crap, Evans? Oh my god!"

Apparently, Chad still had a smile that lit up an entire room.

"You two know each other?"

"We went to high school together," Ryan explained, and hurried over to the bar where he could talk to -- and, okay, see -- Chad better.

"Small world," Chad laughed. "Small _city_. Eight million people, but of all the Starbucks on all the cross streets, you had to walk into mine…"

Ryan laughed. "No kidding. What are you doing here?"

He meant in a why-are-you-working-at-Starbucks-in-New-York-and-not-playing-basketball-in-Albuquerque sense, not literally, but Chad answered, "Learning what's in a red eye, apparently. That's espresso in coffee, right?"

Ryan leaned on the bar and nodded. "I kind of developed a caffeine problem," he confessed, then, "Man, it's been _forever_. I don't think I've seen you since freshman year!"

Actually, he was sure; it had been Troy's Christmas party, between semesters when they were freshmen. After that, Ryan hadn't come home so often, and had basically drifted out of touch with most of the Wildcats. Chad included.

"Yeah, I've been floating around," Chad said vaguely, then began to pull the shot. He was really intent on it, obviously very new to doing it and determined to get it right. He finished, poured it into a cup of coffee, and presented it to Ryan with a proud smile.

Ryan downed a gulp. It was scorching hot, but that was what he preferred. "Delicious," he purred.

"Glad you like it." Chad glanced over at the cashier, then said, "You come in here often?"

"Like, three times a day,"

"Then I'll probably see you around, huh?"

"Definitely."

4.

The Ryan thing was complicated, Chad thought. He hadn't been lying about how often he came in for coffee; he lived nearby, and apparently it was the closest Starbucks to his apartment, _and_ conveniently between his apartment and the subway. Ryan was probably the staff's favorite of all the regulars -- mostly because he was a great tipper. And Chad was always glad to see him.

In his two weeks of work, he'd learned that Ryan was now a senior at Juilliard, living in a studio apartment in Hell's Kitchen (which probably cost five times as much as the two-room place Chad shared with three roommates in Brooklyn), and he was beginning to focus on networking and figuring out what he was going to do _after_ graduation. He was single, though he went out with guys sometimes, but he didn't have time to party. The guy was focused. Seriously focused.

Chad, in return, had told him basically nothing. That was why it was complicated. Ryan was almost exactly the guy Chad remembered -- passionate and excitable, and kind of nerdy in a very, very pretty way. And still drop-dead gorgeous, with bluest eyes Chad had ever seen.

The issue? Chad wasn't out to anyone from high school (except Troy, who didn't count). And Chad didn't want to deal with all that. He'd moved to New York pretty much to make sure he'd never have to. So it wasn't like he could just ask out Ryan.

Which was getting to be a problem, because every time he saw Ryan, he was tempted. At least, until Ryan waltzed in one morning, hurried over to the bar, and said, "Listen to this!" He offered Chad the earbuds from his iPod; Chad glanced around for his supervisor, didn't see her, and indulged Ryan. He got an earful of something he didn't recognize -- definitely piano, but not one of the few classics he knew. It had that sound, though. Sort of.

"That's great," he said.

Ryan laughed. "You have no idea, huh? That's Kelsi," he said. "She wrote and played it. Isn't it amazing? Do you even _remember_ her in high school? She's so different now, it's amazing."

Chad's stomach sank a little. "Everyone was really different then," he said. "I mean, you've changed, too."

Ryan shrugged. "I guess. Grown up. Chad?"

Chad shook his head. "Nothing. Kelsi's thing sounds cool." He handed the earbuds back. "But I'd better get back to work. Enjoy your coffee, okay?"

Ryan nodded, looking baffled, but took the hint and backed off. Chad watched him go and sighed.

Everyone was different now. But Ryan and Kelsi had ended up exactly where they'd wanted to be, doing what they loved. And Chad… Chad hadn't pictured himself dropping out, the was for sure. And he really didn't want everyone from East to know.

So there was no way he could tell Ryan.

3.

"This was the stupidest idea I ever had," Ryan said, staring down at his textbook balefully. "Chad, I'm going to fail out."

Chad leaned across the bar. "I doubt that. What're you doing with a book? Since when do your classes involve reading?"

"Since I'm a dumbass who decided to take an elective on the Harlem Renaissance," Ryan said. "I figured, hey, I'm a senior, I'll slack off, take an _easy_ elective. I won't have to go to rehearsals or bust my ass practicing. They didn't mention writing papers!"

Chad bit his lip, obviously trying not to smile. Ryan glared at him. If Chad laughed, Ryan was never going to tip him again, _ever_. Except that Chad was gorgeous when he laughed, and that made Ryan's heart rate speed up. And yeah, somehow his morning trip to Starbucks -- the trip during Chad's shift -- had become the highlight of his day. Seeing Chad flash that grin, even if it was just for the sake of getting a tip, was something he looked forward to the moment his alarm clock went off. Which was idiotic, because Chad was straight, and it wasn't like he and Ryan were even friends or anything. Ryan ordered his coffee, left a tip, and was rewarded with a teasing wink or a stressed smile.

That was all it was. Chad was just another hot Starbucks guy. But hot enough that Ryan was way happier to do his occasional actual reading and studying there than in the library or his apartment.

"It's not funny," Ryan sulked.

"It is, a little," Chad said. "So what are you reading?"

He flipped to the cover to show it off -- it was an intimidating tome of the collected works of W.E.B Du Bois. Ryan didn't have to read all of them, but he did have to make his way through a few. It was the most serious reading he'd needed to do in a few years.

"Is it shallow if I hate reading?" Ryan asked. "I thought the class would be, like, listening to Duke Ellington or something, but no, I have to write a paper on this."

"It would be shallow," Chad said, "except for that dyslexia thing."

Ryan flushed. He'd rather people think he was shallow than stupid, and even though the dyslexia wasn't his fault, plenty of people acted like it meant he was dumb. "It's only mild. Not _that_ bad. But… you remember that?"

Chad laughed, a little awkwardly. "Looks to me like you're going to need some more coffee to get through that," he said. "Let me make you something. On the house."

2.

Chad should never have agreed to switch shifts. He had barely gotten used to opening -- getting to work by 5:15 -- but Len was sick and he could use the extra shift, so he agreed to come in for the evening. He had to be in Manhattan that evening anyway; his roommate Sasha was playing her first ever show, and he'd sworn he'd go. So he'd stuffed some casual clothes in his bag and come in for it.

It turned out, as annoying as the morning rushes were, the afternoons were worse. Maybe the lines weren't as bad, but the customers were way more obnoxious. On the one hand, tourists; on the other, women who were basically Sharpay Evans aged up twenty years. He hadn't had to deal with anyone so obnoxious since… well, Sharpay, and it turned out there were dozens of them. And they were crappy tippers.

He did not stab anyone, so he counted it as a win. But he was late getting off, thanks to his manager chewing him out for not getting the milk carafes refilled or the napkin trays filled, and didn't realize until he went to get dressed that the half-sandwich he'd saved after lunch had been greasy -- way too greasy -- and had leaked through. His awesome t-shirt (block text: _You Say Potato, I Say Gimme Some Potatoes_) was covered in it. It was completely unwearable, which left him with just his white polo shirt. Which was fine, he supposed, except for some slight coffee stains -- hazard of the job, despite the apron -- but not exactly his style.

He was so irritated when he stormed out that he almost walked into Ryan, who was on his way inside. Ryan danced to the side gracefully, reached up to fix his hat, and said, "Wow, where's the fire?"

"I'm supposed to be out with Sasha," he said. "She'll kill me if I'm late."

"Oh." Ryan blinked. "Sasha, huh? Wouldn't want to disappoint her."

Chad shrugged. "She gets… you know, kind of bitchy when I do. I forgot to do the dishes last week and thought she was going to stab me."

"You _live_ with her?" Ryan said.

"Yeah. And now I have to go meet her, and I look like an idiot."

"You look fine," Ryan said. "I mean, in my expert opinion. And I am an expert, darling."

"I don't," Chad said. "I hate wearing work clothes outside of work." He explained about his doomed sub and destroyed t-shirt. Ryan nodded, listening intently, of course. Ryan had always been really intense about fashion.

"You know," Ryan said finally, "if you've got five minutes, um. Well, I only live a block away. We wear about the same size… I mean, if memory serves."

Chad blinked, remembering the only non-Starbucks time he'd worn a white polo. Lava Springs. Baseball. _Ryan_…

He shouldn't. But it didn't even matter that he doubted Ryan owned anything he'd want to wear, because it was a chance to see Ryan _outside_ of his job. A chance to get Ryan's ridiculously blue eyes gazing at him instead of at an iPod or textbook. It was a stupid, stupid thing to do, but Chad said, "Well, Sasha probably won't kill me if it's only five minutes."

"Great." Ryan grabbed his arm to lead the way.

"I owe you," Chad said.

"You can give me some free coffee," Ryan said, waving his other hand imperiously. "Right now, there's a fashion emergency. And that's the best kind of emergency there is."

Chad laughed.

1.

Ryan was a lot of things, but pathetic was not on the list. Play flirting with Chad had been fun. But play flirting with a dude he'd had a crush on in high school who was now living with a girlfriend was sad. Luckily, there was a simple solution: Ryan avoided him.

Unfortunately, that meant avoiding Starbucks.

Not that there weren't three other Starbucks locations within walking distance of his apartment, but Chad's was the one right by the subway, which was so convenient, and the staff all knew him on sight and he really _liked_ being a regular. But he wasn't going to go there and mope every time he saw Chad, so he'd had to suck it up and get his coffee somewhere else.

Except he didn't have that kind of willpower. So he told himself that, after a late afternoon rehearsal (with more stupid reading to do that night), it was okay to stop in. Chad only worked mornings, usually, except for that one time -- Ryan still hadn't gotten his shirt back -- but chances were good that he'd be able to duck in, get his coffee, and get out without seeing Chad.

He almost made it. He was waiting for his drink at the bar when Chad walked out from the back room, carrying a couple of jugs of milk. Ryan turned away, and for the first time in his life wished he blended into the crowd. But no such luck.

"Hey, Evans."

"Hey." Ryan glanced at him. "I didn't know you worked evenings now."

"Well, you haven't been around much, lately," Chad said. "I figured you kicked your caffeine addiction or something."

"Nah." Ryan kept his gaze fixed firmly on one of the tables. He could be cool and chat, he told himself. Just as long as he kept it to that. A couple of seconds, get his drink, and then…

"Uh, so. I should give you that shirt back, but I don't have it with me."

"No big."

"Um." Chad swallowed. "Um, Ryan? Are you still… do you ever see anyone from home? Other than Sharpay and Kelsi?"

That was out of left field. Ryan sneaked a glance and saw Chad looked nervous. Weird. But he shook his head no. "Not really. I don't go home much anymore, you know, now that I've got my own place."

"Oh. Um. Can you… I kind of have wanted to tell you this for awhile," Chad said, "but I don't… no one at home really knows. Can you keep a secret?"

Okay, now Ryan was interested. He couldn't deny it. He gave up the pretense, slid onto one of the stools at the bar, and said, "Of course. What…?"

"I dropped out. Last semester. Well… I got kicked out. I…" Apparently it was Chad's turn to look away while he talked. Maybe there was an interesting stain on the floor or something. "One of my teammates saw me making out with a guy a few months ago. Right before the season started. It was a whole big… just a big, _rotten_ thing, and I got asked to leave the team. No basketball meant no scholarship, and my parents were really upset about … about _me_… and I just couldn't… I dropped out, figured I'd get my head together somewhere else, finish school somewhere else."

Ryan stared at him. He grabbed the counter so he didn't do anything stupid like fall on his ass, which he was afraid of. Because his world was thrown off its axis, and that left him kind of dizzy.

"Wait," Ryan said. "Back up. A guy saw you…"

"Yeah," Chad said. "I'm… gay." He said it hesitantly, kind of like an experiment. "Troy knows, my parents know, and the U of A Redhawks know. That's about it. Expect you, now. I wasn't going to tell you, but then… you stopped coming in and I missed you and I… I don't know."

"You… but what about Sasha?" Ryan demanded.

"Sasha?" Chad looked baffled. "What about her?"

"Your _girlfriend_! She -- if you're gay -- "

"You mean my roommate?" Chad asked.

"Your… but you were meeting her for a date."

"No?" Chad blinked, then actually smiled. "No, it was just a show, she's a musician and I told her I'd go. We're friends. Who happen to live together."

"Then…" Ryan swallowed. "Then you're… You…"

"You want to go out some time?" Chad asked. "I can't afford anywhere fancy, but I can get you all the free coffee you can drink."

"I can drink a lot of coffee, Chad," Ryan said, but he was beaming. "Absolutely. Yes. Oh my god, what time do you get off shift? Are you free tonight? I have homework, but I don't _care_, we could go see a movie -- "

"Ryan," Chad said, and he sounded really amused. "I'll give you free coffee, but have you ever considered decaf?"


	3. The Five Times Chad Said Please (And The One Time He Didn't Have To)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For MagickalMolly.

5.

"Sharpay said you got my birthday present," Chad said, leaning casually against the locker next to Ryan's.

Ryan shut his locker. "I did," he agreed.

"….and I get it when?"

"On your birthday," Ryan said firmly.

"But that's not for a month." Chad gave Ryan his best pout. "You wouldn't have bought it so soon if you didn't want to give it to me."

"Of _course_ I want to give it to you," Ryan assured him. "On your birthday."

"But Sharpay is going to taunt me all month if she knows what it is and I don't," Chad said.

"Yup, that sounds like something she'll do," Ryan agreed.

Chad scowled, but then tried, "Please? I'll still pretend to be surprised."

"Let me think." Ryan shouldered his bag. "No."

"But -- "

"No," Ryan repeated firmly.

Chad actually put a hand on his hip. "You'd better throw me an awesome party, then."

"Well, _duh_."

"With, like, balloons or something," Chad said.

"Balloons," Ryan agreed. "Check." He started to walk away.

"And streamers. And a bouncy castle!" Chad called after him.

Ryan didn't even glance back over his shoulder.

 

4.

Ryan stared at the mascot costume in horror. "You seriously think I'm going to -- to wear _that_? And _cheerlead_?"

"It's not cheerleading," Chad said quickly. "Being the mascot is totally different. Very manly and athletic. Totally cool."

"It smells like BO."

"You haven't even sniffed it."

"I can smell it from _here_. No."

"But you're the only one who'll fit the costume, and I know you've got all those years of gymnastics," Chad wheedled. "And you'd get to come to all of our games, see me play."

"I could do _that_ just by _doing_ it," Ryan said.

"But this way you can be part of the team," Chad said. "It would just be so cool, you know, for us to actually be part of the _same_ team, actually working together…"

Ryan didn't say anything, which Chad knew meant he was gaining ground.

"Please? I'll get it laundered for you," Chad added.

Ryan sighed. "Fine. But only so I have a excuse to gawk at all you jocks in your basketball shorts."

"You'd better only be gawking at _me_," Chad said firmly.

Ryan laughed. "You won't be able to tell when I have the mask on," he pointed out.

3.

Chad absolutely knew better than to make out with Ryan in school. He knew what would happen. And yet…

He happened to catch Ryan's eye in study hall right before the end of the day, and Ryan winked at him. Ryan raised his hand and asked for a pass to the theater, which the teacher gave him without thinking about it. Two seconds later, Chad's phone vibrated in his pocket. He stealthily slipped it out and glanced.

Text from Ryan:_ u comin or wat_

Chad shut it and raised his hand. "Can I go to the library? I, uh, told Mrs. Falstaff I'd put away some books for her."

The teacher was obviously almost as checked out as the students, and just waved him out. Well, that was easy. Chad was going to have to remember that. But he'd barely made it out into the hall before Ryan grabbed him, pulled him into the nearest bathroom, inside one of the stalls, and slid the latch shut.

"Hey," Chad said.

Ryan cut to the chase and kissed him, hot and wet and demanding. And yes, Chad knew better. Ryan was a tease and probably had zero intention of following through on the promise of that juicy kiss. But there was no _way_ Chad was going to resist. He pushed Ryan against the wall, limbs entangled in the tight space, and Ryan pushed back when Chad started grinding against him.

"Bell's gonna ring in a minute," Ryan panted in Chad's ear, then stuck his tongue inside. "We don't want to get stuck here."

Chad made a noise somewhere in his throat. It was probably a whine. He knew Ryan was going to duck out and leave him all hot and bothered. Ryan had a sick sense of humor sometimes. But Chad wasn't going to give up that easily. "Then we'd better hurry," he said quickly, and slid a hand between their bodies.

"Or we should go," Ryan breathed, but his face was flush and he threw his head back. Which slammed it into the side of the stall, which shuddered under the blow. Not that Ryan seemed to mind. Or notice.

"Can't," Chad said. "I have practice." He grabbed one of Ryan's hands and pulled it to where his own had been.

Ryan's hand played across the outside of Chad's jeans and he said, "So? I have rehearsal."

"_Ryan_," Chad said. Definitely a whine. "I can't change in the locker room like this."

Ryan's gaze flicked down, and he ran a finger down Chad's fly. But didn't unzip it. "Well…"

"_Please_," Chad added.

"Since you asked so nice," Ryan agreed. "It'll have to be fast."

"So not arguing with that," Chad moaned.

Somehow, in one smooth motion, Ryan pushed Chad up against the opposite wall, undid Chad's belt, and dropped to his knees. Chad's last thought before he lost all coherence was that getting led on by a boyfriend who liked to cocktease in school was totally worth it for the times Ryan actually followed through.

2.

Chad stared at Ryan's car hungrily. It was everything his wasn't: not in the shop, not covered in rust, not 15 years old and held together with duct tape. In fact, it was fresh from the dealership, and surprisingly, a flashy bright red. "I can't believe this. I'm the one who cares about cars, and you're the one who gets… _this_."

Ryan jangled his keys mockingly. "You want a ride?"

"I want to _drive_."

"Oh _hell_ no," Ryan said as he unlocked the doors.

"But," Chad said, and then turned to Ryan in a full-on pout, "it's _so_ sexy."

"You're turned on by my car, really?" Ryan shook his head and slid into the driver's seat. "You coming or what?"

Chad sat, and could swear the seat freaking molded to his body, it was so comfortable. He made a noise -- purr was probably the best word for it -- and said, "You don't even know. This is so freaking hot."

"Reeeeeeally." Ryan backed out of his driveway. "You're serious about this. My car makes you horny."

"Mmmm."

"Interesting." Ryan shot him a glance, but then his eyes went right back to the road. "I do still need to break it in a bit…"

Chad knew that tone of voice. He looked over at Ryan.

"You really want to drive?"

"Uh, yeah. Duh."

Ryan shot him another glance. "I haven't even had a passenger in the back seat yet. Let alone…" He smirked. "So if you had to pick, would you rather drive or fuck?"

"That's not fair!"

"Well?"

Just to be spiteful, Chad said, "Drive." He crossed his arms.

Ryan said, "Too bad. 'Cause if you'd said fuck, you might have gotten what you wanted." He smirked. "Oh, well."

Chad scowled, but he knew Ryan well enough to know how to play this. "What if instead of not getting _anything_ I want, I get it all? We could pull over somewhere, hop in the back… and if your mind is blown, I get the keys as a reward."

"Now that _is_ interesting," Ryan said. "But it's not my mind I want blown."

"Anything you want," Chad said.

"Reeeeally."

"Please?" Chad added hopefully.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "I think something like that could work."

 

1.

Chad curled into Ryan's side and shut his eyes. "Just a few more weeks," he mumbled.

Ryan reached for his hand. "I'm sorry, Chad."

"She always talked about," he gulped, not trusting his voice, "about seeing me grow up. And graduate. And -- and play ball in college, and…" He heaved a deep breath and tried not to cry. "She only missed my birthday by a couple weeks."

Ryan shifted to put an arm around him, gathered Chad up next to him, and then pressed a kiss to Chad's temple. "What can I do?" he asked softly, obviously unsure.

"Just, anything, please," Chad begged. "I just don't want to think. I can't right now."

Chad had gotten home from practice to find his father tense and upset, and his mother out. She'd gotten home an hour later and was sobbing -- her mother, Chad's grandmother, had had another stroke, and this time hadn't made it. Chad's father had taken her over to her sister's house, so they could be together, and neither of Chad's siblings were home from college yet -- though obviously they would be for the funeral. It had just felt weird and empty alone in the house, and Chad hadn't known what to do. He hadn't even realized he was heading for Ryan's until he was halfway there, and then had almost turned back because he wasn't sure he and Ryan really had that kind of relationship. They teased and flirted and fucked, but…

Ryan had taken one look at him and wrapped him in a hug before even asking what was wrong.

"Okay," Ryan said, then cleared his throat and continued more confidently, "Did I ever tell you about the time my mom set the Lava Springs dining room on fire? She thought candles were romantic, and kept telling Fulton she wanted more…"

It was a fun story, and Chad had heard it before -- the Lava Springs staff told it basically whenever Ryan's mom did something flighty, which was pretty often -- but he didn't care. It was silly and light-hearted, and from there Ryan launched into a ridiculous story about how his father had once driven three golf carts into a water trap in one week, and also the time he caught his parents making out behind the fake waterfall in the pool…

And it wasn't exactly funny, and it couldn't really get Chad's mind off of his grandmother. But at least it was a distraction. And Ryan was warm and comforting on the couch next to Chad, and he even pretended not to notice when Chad cried.

0.

Chad stared. "You actually got me a bouncy castle."

"Well, you wanted one," Ryan said, oddly defensive. "If you don't like it -- "

"What's not to like?" Chad interrupted quickly. "It's a bouncy castle."

Ryan grinned. "And streamers, and balloons. No clowns, though. I know how you feel about clowns."

"Do not make fun of my clown thing," Chad said. Ryan smirked, but didn't say anything about it. But he did grab Chad's hand and lead him inside (the actual house, not the castle, to Chad's surprise). "People will be here soon," Chad said.

"I know. But I also know," Ryan said, smirk widening into a real grin, "that you want your present. It's up in my room."

"Ooooh," Chad said. "Well, if it's what I think it is, probably better there than in a bouncy castle on the front lawn, huh?"

"Perv," Ryan said, as if he hadn't given Chad plenty of reasons to be a perv in the months they'd been together. "It's not sex. I mean, we can have sex if you want -- "

"If?"

" -- but it's this." He held an envelope out to Chad.

Chad was a little surprised by that. He'd figured Ryan would at least get him something personal, and was a little disappointed by the idea of getting a check from his boyfriend. That was just… weird. But he opened it, and wow. That was not a check.

It was a set of tickets. Baseball tickets. Cubs tickets for two weeks after graduation. "Ry, these are for a home game," he said. "In Chicago."

"I know." Ryan grinned at him. "Looks like we might have a long drive ahead of us, Wildcat. And a couple of nights in hotels on the way…"

Chad grinned. Baseball. Ryan's car. And lots and lots of alone time with Ryan. "It's perfect," he said, and kissed Ryan.

Ryan beamed, obviously pleased. "Glad you like."

"Though, now that I think about it," Chad said, and used his foot to shut the door to Ryan's room, "you also just offered me sex."

"We're supposed to be hosting a party, you know," Ryan reminded him -- it was Chad's birthday party, but at Ryan's house, since Ryan had way more space and his house was pretty much awesome. "Your guests will be here soon."

"Then we'd better be fast, huh?" He wondered if Ryan would actually go for that.

Apparently, he did, without even arguing about it for a change. Ryan laughed and reached up to take off his hat. "Well, I did offer. And it is your birthday." He kissed Chad. "So I guess we'll have to save the marathon, tantric sex for after they all go home. Something for you to look forward to."

"Even better than the bouncy castle," Chad agreed.


	4. Five Auditions Where Sharpay Didn't Get the Part (and One Where She Did)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For frogy. Also, I didn't take "audition" 100% literally, though it's pretty close.

5.

Derby Evans frowned, and when she frowned, the nursery school teacher trembled. Her darlings were sitting on red plastic chairs. Ryan was kicking his feet under his chair, looking bored, but he broke into his enormous, ray-of-sunshine smile when he saw Derby.

Sharpay, on the other hand, wailed harder. Ryan seemed oblivious to the fact that his sister, only inches away from him, was sobbing so hard she was red-faced and snot-nosed. Really, it was very unbecoming, but Derby loved her little angel no matter what she looked like or how shrill she got.

Which was really very shrilled. Derby strode over to her and held out her arms; Sharpay threw herself into them. "Darling, whatever is the matter?" Derby asked.

"I -- wanted -- to be -- the _swan_!" Sharpay sobbed. Derby patted her back and placed her back down on the chair. She looked over at Ryan helplessly.

"I get to be a ducky," Ryan said proudly. Derby mused that he must have become totally immune to Sharpay's tantrums at some point, given how cheerful he still looked. She wished she had that ability. "An' Sharpay too, 'cause we're twins!"

"I don't -- " sob -- "_wanna_ be a _stupid ducky_!"

The teacher jumped in to explain, "We're putting on a play of _The Ugly Duckling_. Every child gets a part!"

Ah. Of course every child got a part, but that hardly mattered. Sharpay was a sharp little girl and she knew instinctively that some things were just better than others -- and of course she wanted the best. Derby could hardly fault her for that, after all, since she fully planned to make sure her darlings had the best of everything.

But Derby wouldn't be able to buy Sharpay everything, much as she'd like to; Sharpay would have to learn eventually that happiness had to come from within. She gave her daughter a hug and said, "Well then, darling, you will just have to be the best duckling you can be."

Sharpay gave her a look of utter betrayal that almost broke her heart, because of course Derby always wanted to be able to fix everything. Sharpay let out another wail, then screamed, "I _won't_, ducks are _stupid_!" and ran off, still crying.

She glanced at Ryan, whose lower lip trembled. "Ducks aren't stupid, Mama," he said.

"I know, darling," she assured him, and sighed, looking over at Sharpay, who was now throwing blocks at the wall furiously. Sharpay was bright and articulate and absolutely charming when she wanted to be, but she did have an unfortunate habit of throwing tantrums. Derby hoped she'd grow out of it soon.

4.

Sharpay grabbed Ryan's hand and waited. She loved being on stage but she hated this feeling, waiting to find out how she'd done. Not that she could _possibly_ have done badly. But she hadn't done as well as she knew she _could_, and that made her anxious.

"Don't worry, Shar," Ryan mumbled, and she leaned into him a little.

He had already been accepted. After years of preparation -- at least, it felt like years -- she and Ryan had auditioned for a performing arts school, which would be a stepping stone into a high school for professionally performing teens. It was very expensive (of course, she scoffed), but more than that, it was exclusive. They took barely a quarter of applicants, and it was all based on the audition, not the tuition, they'd been told over and over. In other words, Mom and Dad couldn't buy their way in. They had to earn it.

Sharpay privately thought that the boys weren't nearly as competitive as the girls. There just weren't as many boys who wanted to grow up and be singers and dancers, and she was sure they weren't nearly as horrible to each other. Sharpay hadn't met a single other girl at auditions she hadn't hated immediately, but it didn't matter. After all, she'd have Ryan, and she didn't _need_ anyone else.

Finally, the very pointy woman who had been running things walked into the waiting room. Everyone turned to stare at her as she started calling names. Sharpay squeezed Ryan's hand so hard it must have hurt, but he didn't complain.

But her name wasn't called.

"…and the rest of you, thank you very much for your interest and your auditions; we hope you go on to have long, wonderful careers." The pointy woman gave them an equally-pointy smile, and ushered out the group who had been accepted.

It took time to sink in. Sharpay felt shaky, like she couldn't breathe. She'd been in dance classes since she was four, she had spent months on her audition routine, she'd starved herself and pushed herself and had done everything --

"I won't go without you," Ryan told her, voice quiet and dead serious. "Wherever we go, we go together, okay?"

She nodded.

"Let's call Dad," he continued. "We'll go for ice cream, and then go shopping. We'll get manicures and mud scrubs -- "

"Ryan, stop!" she shrieked, standing up. She grabbed her purse and added, "If they say I'm not good enough, no amount of shopping will make up for it, so just _shut up_!"

She felt a little better at the hurt look on his face, and she stormed out, knowing he would follow.

3.

The director and producer were very apologetic about it. But mostly they talked to Derby, which Sharpay found absolutely infuriating. It was like she wasn't even there, like she wasn't part of this conversation -- a conversation about _her_.

"It's just, she's so young," the producer explained.

"_Kim_ is young," Sharpay muttered.

"Kim is sixteen," the producer continued as if never interrupted. "We just can't cast a child in this role." He shrugged apologetically. "We'd love to have her in the chorus, we could even arrange some solos -- "

"Excuse me!" Sharpay stomped her foot and went for her most shrill; at least that got them to look at her, if they weren't going to talk to her. She stood, hand on her hip, and demanded, "Did the casting call say _teenage girl_?"

"Yes, but -- "

"And was I, or was I not, the _most_ talented teenage girl who auditioned?"

"Yes, but you're only thirteen, and -- "

"Then either I get the part, or I'm done here, with your sniveling _community theater_." She threw as much disgust on that as she could.

"But we can't -- "

"Then I'm done. Mother, let's go." She stormed out, and Derby followed her, making apologies for her.

"Kitten, I do wish you'd think about what you're doing," she sighed, as they walked to the car. "I know it's only a small theater, but even participating would be a good start to -- "

"Mother. Please. I have plenty to do at school now," Sharpay said firmly. "Other theater would be fine, but I'm not going to settle. You and Daddy never do!"

"I know, but… well, you were so excited to audition -- "

"Besides," Sharpay said quickly, "_Ryan_ is perfectly happy doing school theater for now. Why shouldn't I be?"

"Someday, you two are going to have to start moving out on your own," Derby said, and Sharpay recognized the careful, dancing-around-it tone of voice. Her mother was humoring her. It was so insulting.

"Well, we will when we want to," Sharpay said dismissively, as if it didn't matter at all. But she knew it did, because that night, Ryan was the one she sniffled to, admitting, "It was a perfect part for me. I don't look _that_ young…"

"You were too good," he said. "They didn't want to make the adults look bad."

She half-laughed, half-snorted, and buried her face in his shoulder. Ryan always knew just what to say.

 

2.

"Can I come in?" Ryan asked.

Sharpay glanced around her room. It was a wreck; she'd thrown everything off of her desk and most of her shelves, trashing it all totally. She'd clean it up eventually, but she'd just needed to destroy something. It was a bad habit she'd never fully grown out of. She'd smiled and been gracious when the Juilliard people had spoken to her parents and shaken Ryan's hand, she'd hugged him and told everyone how proud she was of him. But she hadn't spoken a word to him, and he hadn't tried to talk to her. Not until now.

"Sure," she said, but she turned away from him.

He stepped into her room, and shut the door behind him. For a long moment he just stood there, then finally he said, "This isn't -- it's not middle school. I can't…"

"I know."

"I wanted you to be with me," he said. "I never imagined going on my own. It was always you and me, Shar. I always thought it was you and me."

"Well, now it's you and _Kelsi_," she said tartly. "And it isn't even my fault! Troy and Gabriella screwed me, and then Jimmy and Tiara screwed me and if I ever get my hands on them I will _choke_ him, I swear to god!"

"I'll help," Ryan offered.

She snorted. It was an unbecoming noise, her mother would say, but Sharpay didn't care, and she didn't exactly believe Ryan. After all, he'd laughed with the rest of them. Jimmy had humiliated her on stage, and Tiara had betrayed her, and they'd made fools of her in front of the Juilliard people, and she would never, ever forgive them.

She'd forgive Ryan, though, because he was _Ryan._ But that didn't mean she wouldn't make him squirm first.

"Look, I just…" He trailed off.

"_What_?" she snapped. "I know you didn't come to gloat, and don't even bother to pretend you wish it was me, not you. We both know that's idiotic."

"I'm scared."

She turned and stared at him.

He shrugged, awkward in a way he almost never was. Ryan was so -- so very much himself in a way most people weren't. Somehow, he'd ended up totally comfortable in his own skin, something she couldn't even manage. Then again, maybe if she'd been the more talented twin, she might have been more confident, too.

Not that she'd ever acknowledge any of that out loud.

"I've never done this without you," he said. "I only ever started taking dance classes because of you, and… I really always wanted you to be there."

So she laid some truth on him: "So you'd have someone to hide behind. Well, you'll just have to suck it up and go be fabulous on your own. From now on, if you fail, it's on you."

He winced and for a second she felt good about it, because she knew that was what he'd meant. Maybe he was more confident in being himself, but when it came to being on stage, being someone _else_…

Ryan definitely would never have had the balls to reclaim his role like she had.

But then she remembered that, no matter how pissed she was, this was Ryan, and soon she was going to have to go without him for months at a time, and no one understood her like he did. She was pissed at him, but even so, he'd absolutely nailed the audition and she'd fucked it up, and he absolutely deserved his scholarship. She hated him for it a little, but she loved him even more.

"But you won't," she said softly. "So when your name is in lights, that'll all be on you, too."

He sat on her bed, and finally she sat next to him.

"I'm going to miss you," he said quietly, like it was a confession.

"Well, of course you are," she answered tartly -- but then leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. "But you'll just have to learn to live without me."

But she meant, _I'll have to learn to live without you._

And judging by the arm he wrapped around her shoulder, he knew it.

1.

Sharpay Evans did not settle, and by the end of her freshman year, it was clear that the University of Albuquerque had nothing in particular to offer her. The theater program was standard at best, nothing outstanding; the school itself didn't care about the arts whatsoever. So, with support (albeit tinged with mild disapproval) from her parents, she left it and moved to LA.

LA had been a hard choice. But she'd wanted to give Ryan his space in New York -- his freshman year had been the polar opposite of hers: amazing in every way. Their mother said approvingly that he'd blossomed, and while she rolled her eyes at it… well, their mother was right. And even though Sharpay was sure he'd have welcomed her, she didn't want to intrude. Besides, she'd realized finally, it wasn't just performing that gave her the thrill. She liked to be recognized. She liked to be known.

She wanted to be famous.

And people just didn't get famous like that on Broadway. Not that she'd ever give up her love of the theater; that was absolutely pure and untarnished. But it was time she admitted what she'd known in her heart for awhile, and that was that she was more Hollywood than she was New York. So she'd gone for it.

Not that going was easy. Oh, it had been much easier than it might have been -- after all, thanks to her parents, she didn't have to worry about paying rent or getting a job to pay the bills. And because her parents knew so many people, of course they'd known someone who'd known someone, so after only a month and a half of trying to get auditions she'd at least managed to get an appointment with an agent. She brought her headshot and resume and waited none too patiently in the hall outside his office before he finally ushered her in.

He saw her and grinned, and she knew instantly that she didn't like him. She tried to remember how she'd gotten his contact info -- one of her mother's friend's cousins or something. So no one too closely related to them.

"It's… Sharpay? Like the dog?" he asked.

She grit her teeth, smiled, and handed him a folder with her headshot and resume. "Pronounced that way," she said, false cheer in her voice. "Thank you for taking the time to see me, Mr. Case."

"Oh, sure, always got time for a pretty young thing," he agreed, glancing at her picture before dropping the folder on his desk.

She definitely didn't like him.

"You've got the right look," he said after another second. "Skinny, all legs, blond. Maybe you need a boob job; we should get that done now, before you do any major auditions."

"Major?" she repeated, and told herself firmly that she wasn't going to cross her arms over her chest and hide, no matter how sleazy he was. This was the industry, after all, and she was going to have to get used to being looked at like that. Even if it did make her skin crawl. "Do you know of anything casting for my type right now?"

"There's always something looking for your type, sweetheart."

"I meant specifically. What projects can you get me auditions for?"

"You just let me worry about that," he said, and ran his gaze down her frame again.

She couldn't stop herself. She held up her hand and snapped her fingers, declaring, "My eyes are up _here_. I'd like a list of specific projects you know about."

He looked up, almost glaring. "You don't get to be a diva until you been in a few movies," he said. "And you won't get that unless you have an agent. So maybe we should talk about what you can do for _me_, Sharpay."

She stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"There are perks people expect," he said. "People like producers. Casting directors. Agents. I need to know how far you're going to go to make it in this industry."

His subtext was barely sub; she knew exactly how he thought she was going to make it. She narrowed her eyes. "I'll work as hard as I can for any part where I'm cast," she said finally. "But I don't do perks. Period."

"You sure about that?" he asked. "It's a lot easier to get booked if you've got an agent. People take you more seriously. I'm not asking for much, here. Just something to make it worth my while."

She stood up as calmly as she could, knuckles white from clenching her purse, and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

0.

Sharpay had to do something with her time, since she wasn't getting enough auditions -- let alone work -- to take it up. So on a whim she'd signed up for a series of acting classes; they weren't done through a university or anything, but the program brought in a handful of respected actors to teach classes.

Though apparently they considered anyone who'd done an indie movie respected, she thought wryly, glancing at this week's guest instructor. His name was Josh somethingorother. He'd been a child actor on some sitcom -- she hadn't watched enough TV growing up to know it -- and had disappeared for a few years during his awkward phase, only to resurface in his late teens, doing indie rolls. Now he was an up-and-comer, doing supporting rolls in mainstream things. It was probably only a matter of time before he hit it big.

Of course, that assumed no one in the country had any taste. He was the sort of guy who was totally wrapped up in his image, which was, for some reason, shlubby. He showed up for red carpets in rumpled tuxes and sneakers, he never brushed his hair, and Sharpay was pretty sure he put way more effort into maintaining his uneven scruff than he would admit.

He wasn't a dreadful actor, though. He was obviously completely checked out of the class he was teaching, but he also obviously knew his craft. Sharpay could at least respect that. After the two-hour session ended, he waved politely, fielded a few questions, and slipped out. Most of her classmates -- middle aged women who were _way_ past the point when they had a chance to break into the industry -- were buzzing about him. A few others had followed him out, probably hoping to shmooze and get his agent's number. Sharpay figured she _should_ be doing that. She knew it would be good to make connections. But she wasn't going to embarrass herself by fawning on someone who apparently couldn't work a razor correctly, and she wasn't going to stoop to sucking up, either.

She gathered her stuff and stepped outside. And, two seconds later, she saw whatshisname snapping his phone shut, standing on the sidewalk in front of her.

"Excuse me," she said.

He slid his phone into his pocket. "Oh, hey, I was hoping to run into you."

She was so not charmed by his smile. He obviously thought she should be. But she said, "Oh?"

"Well. These classes are…" He trailed off, rolling his eyes. "But you were pretty good."

She stood a little straighter. She _was_ pretty good. "Thanks," she said.

He seemed to chew on an idea for a long second, then offered, "You have an agent?"

"Not at this exact moment, no."

"Okaaay, what about other moments?"

She pulled the strap of her purse up onto her shoulder. "No."

"Oh." Another long moment, waiting. If he thought she was going to beg for information… "Well, look, I just signed on to this romcom. It's not exactly _Citizen Kane_, but it's about this wedding, and they're looking for lots of bridesmaids and girls to be at the bridal party and… I'd say you should have your agent look into it, if you have one, but."

"Yeah," she said. "But." Then, "Why are you bothering to tell me this?"

"You get suspicious every time a guy does a nice thing for you?"

"You blame me?"

He looked a little startled by that, then said, "Look, this is the fifth one of these classes I've taught, and you're the first person with actual talent I've seen. You have a pen and paper?"

She nodded and dug one out of her purse. He flipped his phone back open and scrolled through it, copied a number, and handed the paper back to her. "That's the casting director. I'll let her know you're going to call so maybe you'll actually get an audition. And that's _all_ I can do, so don't ask."

"I didn't ask you to do that," she pointed out.

"You could at least say thank you."

She carefully tucked the scrap of paper away, and said, "Thanks."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes and walked off, but glanced back over his shoulder. "Maybe I'll see you around someday." It was almost a challenge.

"Count on it," she promised.


	5. Five Things That Sharpay Can't Stand About Chad (and One She Likes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For TSB.

    "Give me one good reason I shouldn't date Chad," Ryan demanded, crossing his arms and sinking into the armchair.

Sharpay tossed her hair over her shoulder and paced. "I can give you _five_."

"Please." Ryan gestured.

"One." She held up a finger. "Let us talk t-shirts."

"He makes them himself, you know. It shows he's creative."

"It shows he's color blind and tacky. Where as you are..." She eyed his ensemble. "Well, we'll just say you express your creativity through fashion."

He scowled, sure there was an insult somewhere in there, as she turned sharply on one designer shoe and paced. "Two, he carries a basketball with him everywhere."

Ryan blinked at her.

"Oh, you may think it's a stupidly endearing quirk, but I know you. You like to _cuddle_."

"We can't all be made of ice," he snitted.

"Do you really want to wake up with that horrible bumpy texture all over your pretty face?"

"I don't think he uses it instead of a pillow," Ryan said.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, he wouldn't if I was there."

"Ha. Three." She held up three fingers in a dramatic gesture. She did everything dramatically, though, so it didn't have much of an impact. "His grades. They're abysmal."

"So? So are mine."

"Yes, but you know where you're going in life, and you won't exactly need to remember high school chemistry when you debut on Broadway."

"Right, and Chad's going to need chemistry for the NBA?"

"Please. He's at least ten inches too short to play pro. So he plays in college, majors in getting trashed, graduates, and then what? With no useful skills, he ends up a career grocery store bagboy who never shuts up about how he used to play ball."

"_Or_ he realizes he can't live without me, transfers to FIT to be near me, and goes professional designing kitchy shirts."

The look she gave him could have wilted flowers. "Fine, let's talk jock then. As in jock _itch_, and athlete's foot, and a million other disgusting maladies. He's sweaty and crawling with germs."

"So I'll do him in the shower. That way we both come out clean."

"Don't be vile," she said with a shudder, then turned back to him, hand held up, fingers spread. "Five. The biggie. His personality is -- it's -- he -- !" She actually sputtered with rage.

Ryan ducked his head, hiding a smirk under the shadow of his hat's brim. "He made fun of your shoes, didn't he?"

"My Manolos!" She stomped her foot. "He is detestable, and deplorable, and de... de..."

"Delightful?" Ryan suggested. "Delicious? Delovely?"

"Ught, _stop_." She flounced down on the couch. "So as you can see, he is completely wrong for you. Now will you _drop_ it?"

"Yeah, yeah. Except for one thing about him you've forgotten."

"What?" she demanded.

"He makes me really happy." Ryan shrugged, unable to hide a dorky smile, though he did at least have the decency to look away embarrassedly when Sharpay narrowed her eyes at him.

But after a second, her glare lightened and she sighed, leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I always forget that one," she said.

"That one? What one?"

She pushed herself back up and glanced over at him. "Well. You know. I could spend hours enumerating the things I hate about him, but I've never seen you look _that_ dopey over a guy before. I suppose if he makes you that happy, it should count for _something_. But not much! I still hate him, you know."

"I know," Ryan said, but he was grinning even wider.

She stood up and said, "Good. As long as you accept that. Now, if you aren't too busy texting him and smiling like an idiot -- "

"He's funny!" Ryan objected.

"-- I have to go shoe shopping. _Apparently_ my favorite shoes all look like some sort of alien appendages. I wouldn't mind company."

Ryan was on his feet in a second. "Alien appendage? He said that about your _Manolos_? No wonder you hate him."

"Glad to see you can still see reason," she said.


End file.
